As he ran, his vision was becoming blurry from the tears that had been building behind his lashes, and that had now decided to fall. He ran haphazardly, with no sense of direction, no idea of where he was going. All he knew was he had to get away from this, from these people, from this place. Like, NOW.
He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, stumbling sometimes, catching himself before he fell. His chest constricted painfully with every inhaled breath, his back hurting from the exertion, his head pounding. He was running into traffic, car horns blaring at him as he dodged and weaved his way between the vehicles. He didn't care if he got hit. He really didn't. He found his route taking him down an alleyway, as his feet slowly brought him to a stop. He bent himself over double, his hands balled up into fists on his thighs, trying to get a breath. A breath that he did't care whether he took or not. It didn't matter to him now, whether he lived or died.
He noticed a neon bar sign up ahead on the corner of the alley and an adjoining road. He trudged dejectedly in that direction, loosening his tie, throwing it somewhere, undoing the top button of his shirt collar. His tears were falling unabated now, but he didn't care. He had lost his world. He snorted -- Where did he belong in this one anymore ? --
Entering the dimly lit bar, he squinted into the dark as his eyes adjusted to the almost non-existent light after the brightness of outside. The smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke assaulted his nostrils as he took a seat at the bar. The bartender nodded at him in recognition.
"Large vodka, straight up" he said, the bartender only nodding his answer. A glass appeared in front of him on the sticky black Formica bar top, and was filled speedily and efficiently. He gulped it back in one swift motion, slamming the glass back down on the bar, sucking his teeth and squinting at the burning sensation in his throat. He held his glass up for the bartender to pour him another one, again a fresh glass being filled in front of him, the clear liquor sloshing over the top of the glass slightly, adding to the already sticky mess beneath it. He knocked it back again, twisting the glass in his hand this time, as if examining it, as if it held the answer he was looking for. The answer to everything.
In a split second, his arm drew back and with the force of a baseball pitcher, he threw the glass at the nearest wall, shattering the heavy glass into razor sharp shards. They'll be finding that shit for weeks, he smiled weakly to himself. He slouched over his bar stool and sobbed.
"What the fuck !" the bartender roared, obviously unamused. He stood up, violently wiping away his tears, inhaling a huge steadying breath. He threw three $20 bills on to the bar.
"This should cover it. Sorry" he said flatly, his red-rimmed eyes daring the large man to challenge him. He didn't. He could see this man was in pain, and he wasn't willing to add to it. As he lurched out the door, catching himself as he almost fell down the few steps to the sidewalk, he noticed a small park across the street. Dodging the traffic more successfully this time, he walked to the open gate. Once there, he grabbed onto the cold metal frame as if his life depended on it. He swayed slightly, his gaze slipping in and out of focus, the vodka now taking hold of his already compromised faculties.
He staggered to the nearest bench, flopping down heavily onto the wooden slats. He buried his head in his hands, and began to cry in earnest. Softly at first, then the floodgates opened, his body heaving and falling to the side, lying face down on the seat as his body dry heaved, eventually having no more tears to left to cry. He couldn't think in a straight line, his brain had turned to mush, his heart wasn't broken, it was AWOL, and his head hurt like fuck. He could see no way forward anymore, and all he could feel was pain, and emptiness. And anger. Pure, demonic rage.
Christina.
He had to go and see Christina. That was why he was here in the first place, after all.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Sebastian Cole stood at the foot of his daughter's grave, it having only been filled an hour ago. The few handfuls of earth that he and he brother and her boyfriend had thrown onto her casket, the only things marring it's pristine white lacquered veneer. Pink and white flowers arranged in various shapes and sizes lined the edges of the freshly dug earth. It took everything he had in him to even accept that his little girl, his precious 19 year old daughter, never to see 20, was actually inside that thing. That she was cold and alone and in the ground in front of him, and he couldn't bear it. What was left of his heart was ripped wide open.
He climbed down into her grave and prostrated himself on top of the coffin, finding more tears to cry. Eventually, he found, if he waited long enough, there were always more tears to cry.
"Christina !!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, wailing to the heavens, as if they could help him, and return his angel to him. They didn't need her that desperately, did they ? He needed her more, he begged. He needed her more. He thumped his fist on the hard shell that encased the most beautiful, wonderful child in the world. His child. His Princess. That she would let him in to join her.
"Please!" he begged. "Please ..... Christina ....." he whimpered, gently placing the side of his face on her coffin, imagining he were touching her cheek for the very last time. After a few minutes that seemed like hours, but that he knew could never be long enough to say goodbye, he climbed out with difficulty, thinking again, he would happily stay there, in this hole in the earth, in the cold and the dark, and die. At least he would be with her.
He knelt at her side, again wiping the tears that would eventually cease. And he talked to her.
"My darling, why ? Why would you do this ? Was he worth it ? He doesn't give a shit, my love. Your life meant nothing to him. The years you wasted on a man who neither knew, nor cared about you. And what do we do now, Jamie and Makai and I, huh ? What do we do without you ?" His body was racked in pain and choked sobs yet again, gasping for breath. He calmed a little, straightening himself up stoically, as if ready to do battle. He made his daughter a promise, then.
"I will do whatever it takes to make sure he pays for your life, Christina. I know you wouldn't want me to, but honestly, you don't have much say in the matter, my love". A small smile crept across his face. "He needs to pay. If not with his own life, then that of someone close to him. That freak he calls his "husband". Not their kids, I wouldn't wish the death of a child on my worst enemy, and at the moment, that's what that "dancer" is. No, they need to suffer, as I suffer, as your brother, and Makai suffer. I will see to it, my darling, that he pays for your death. If it's the last thing I ever do. That it's the last thing he ever does".
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
YOU ARE READING
YOU PROMISED ME FOREVER -- Sequel to "DIFFERENT"
Fanfiction5 years later, Laurent and Larry Read-Bourgeois and their two children, are living a seemingly perfect life. An unexpected, and traumatic event leaves them lost and bewildered, their perfect life now a nightmare. They keep their life, but can they...
